A Pound of Flesh
by Mindy35
Summary: GALEX. Post-ep for 1x04, picks up immediately after. Following their adventure in the vault, Gene gets some upstairs outside. Alex does not.


Rating: T, for gratuitous groping  
Disclaimer: Characters & universe are property of Ashley Pharaoh, Matthew Graham, Kudos Productions, BBC et al.  
Spoilers: Nothing major.  
Pairing: Gene/Alex, all the way.  
Summary: GALEX. Post-ep for 1x04, picks up immediately after. Following their adventure in the vault, Gene gets some upstairs outside. Alex does not.

-x-

"Tell you what," she said, chin in hand and eyes tapering, "I'll do you a deal."

"Not sure I'm interested in your deals." He poured half the jug of red into her glass, the rest into his. "Your deals always end up with me in the shit."

Alex took her glass and sipped. "I think you'll like this one."

"How's that?" Gene chinked his glass against hers before putting it to his lips.

"Simple quid pro quo."

"I don't speak Gaelic."

Her eyes rolled. "You show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"I've already seen yours," he murmured, gaze drifting unrepentantly into the dip of her cleavage. "And a very nice view it was."

"How'd you like to touch them then?"

His eyes snapped up to hers. "Beg yours?"

She nodded once. "Right here, right now. You promise to hand over the Artemis file," she glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice, "and I promise you can feel me up while no one's watching."

Gene pulled back in his seat. "You brazen hussy."

Alex leaned in. "Hey, I almost _died_ for whatever's in that file."

"You got a bit hot, so what?"

 _"_ _So_ I want to know—"

"Know what? What d'you care about ruddy neutron bombs?"

"What d'you care about my bra size?"

"The neutron bomb is a fiction," he muttered, stabbing a finger at her chest, "those puppies are fact!"

Her brows raised. "So you read the file." Her spine straightened and eyes blinked. "What did it say about the bomb, about the testing?"

He looked away. "You _just said_ it made no difference."

"Is the government implicated?" She leaned in closer, elbows propped on the table and head tilted to one side. "Gene…? Tell me. I _need_ to know."

Gene drew in a breath, took a lazy sip of Merlot. He watched her tongue run over her teeth, her teeth bite into her lower lip.

"I'm a D-cup," she said eventually, voice low and enticing.

He grunted, fist tightening on his glass. "S'me favourite…"

A clock chimed, indicating that magical hour when Luigi lowered the lights and let candlelight dominate the restaurant. Gene glanced round as the lights all dimmed as if on cue. Alex kept her gaze trained on his face.

"Ten seconds each," she murmured, eyebrows arched expectantly, "over the top. Then we go collect the file from wherever you've stashed it. _Together_."

His jaw twitched. He put down his glass and leaned in, forearms resting on the table and shoulder reconnecting with hers. " _Fifteen_ seconds each, thirty total."

"Fine." Her voice lowered further and she cast a glance at the kitchen entrance to her left. "But if someone comes, you back off. Deal?"

He nodded. "Deal."

"Right then." She slid her butt back in her seat and her forearms forward on the table, creating a clandestine opening for his hand. "Go for it."

Gene hesitated then turned towards her, slipping an arm over the back of her chair for extra concealment. Not that it was necessary. Their backs faced the restaurant and none of the other patrons were interested in their little battle of the sexes, not with their own to wage. He glanced about nonetheless, making sure the coast was clear. Then he turned his gaze back on her, her raised brows and expectant expression.

He wagged his head at her. "You're a very strange bird, you know that?"

"What's it matter?" she huffed as his hand stole under her arm and across her chest. "It's only flesh," she added, voice hitching slightly as his right hand closed around her left breast.

"Yes, it is," he mused, gaze lowered to where his happy palm cupped and caressed her. "Soft, round, lovely flesh…."

She took a breath, her breast expanding in his grasp. Her eyes gazed straight ahead and her shoulder shrugged against his chest. "Don't know what men get so worked up about..."

"Who's worked up?" he asked, eyes lifting to her face and one thumb stroking the flesh that rose above the cup of her bra through the thin silk of her blouse. "I'm perfectly calm."

Alex turned her face to look at him. Then dropped her gaze to her folded arms, her wristwatch. "Time's up," she said after a moment. "Switch."

"And I s'pose," he murmured as his hand slid from her left breast across to her right, "this is havin' no effect on you whatsoever."

She shook her head, curls bobbing against her flushed cheeks. "None. Whatsoever." She glanced up at the ceiling, sucked in a breath and held it.

"You're flushed," he pointed out, stroking the underside of her breast with the tips of his fingers.

"It's the wine," she told him, retrieving her glass and taking a large sip.

Gene hummed and squeezed her more firmly. Even through that contraption he got a good look at in the vault, he could feel her nipples hardening into aroused little points. He ran his thumb over her right nipple deliberately, circled it several times and watched her breath escape her lungs. He watched her throat swallow and her face turn away as his warm palm circumnavigated her perfect, pale, heaving mound. Once, twice, three times.

This time, Alex didn't look at her watch. She just shrugged him off when she'd had enough. "Alright, that's got to be thirty seconds." She reached for her wine, downed the rest of it. Then scooted her chair back to face him, arms folded across her chest. "Deal's a deal."

Gene cleared his throat then rose. "I'll get y'coat."

-x-

Ten minutes later, they stared down at his empty desk drawer, the broken lock.

"It was 'ere," he said, "Swear to God, I locked it right in 'ere before leavin'."

Alex swung her head to look at him, her eyes dark and tone dry. "A top secret government file. In _your own_ desk drawer. Secured by a lock that could be jimmied with a teaspoon."

He huffed, hands going to his hips. "Bloody spooks..."

"You owe me, Hunt." She moved in close, hands on her own hips. "Big time."

Gene faced her, brow crumpled and head tilted backwards. "Wanna feel me up, Drake? Thirty seconds, over the top..." His hands parted the halves of his suit jacket. "I'll even take me jacket off for you."

Her eyes flashed. "This is not funny."

"I'm dead serious," he answered.

But Alex was already off, stalking bad-temperedly towards Shaz's desk. "I want that file," she muttered half to him, half to herself. She picked up the telephone receiver and punched the extension for the front desk. "If it has anything to do with my mother's— Yeah, Viv. Has a tall guy come through in the last half hour or so? Blonde 'tashe, wire-rimmed glasses? Might have used the name Baker?"

Following her from his office, Gene propped a shoulder against the door frame. "File's long gone, Bolly."

She cast a glance at him. "No thanks to you."

"S'not like I did it on purpose," he grumbled. " _And_ I offered you a pound of flesh to make things right. Even though," he added, running a hand through his hair, "you already had yourself a nice feel of my manly pectorals in that vault."

Alex pulled the mouthpiece away from her lips, her eyes running over the length of him. "Yeah, I noticed how hard your heart was beating."

Gene sniffed and straightened. "That was the heat."

"You can say that again," she muttered before returning to her second conversation. "Yeah, still here. Okay, Viv. Okay, thanks."

She dumped the receiver into its cradle with a tinkling thwack, her lips twisted in irritation and thought. There was a moment of silence before Gene spoke.

"So." He peeled off his jacket and flung it on Ray's desk. "We 'ave a deal then?"

Alex turned towards him. She walked towards him. Everything about her oozing danger. As she reached him, she lifted her hands as if to place them flat on his chest. But only her fingertips made contact, shoving him back against the door frame. " _No_. We do _not_." She turned on her heel and made for the door. "This was _not_ the deal." As she passed her desk, she grabbed her jacket from where she'd flung it on the desktop on her way in, upsetting a cup of pencils.

"There's no need to get worked up," he called after her, watching her step over the scattered pencils. He waited until each one had rolled noisily to rest against the leg of a chair or desk, waited until she was at the door before adding, "After all, Bols…."

Alex yanked open the door and glanced back at him.

"…it's only flesh."

She shot him a look of utter murder before marching out the door and down the corridor, white leather jacket slung over her shoulder. Gene chuckled under his breath then shook his head, his smile fading in the solitude of the squadroom. He ran a hand over his face, over his mouth, and smelt her there. Her perfume, her sweat, her flesh. Retrieving his jacket, he slipped it back on and pulled his office door shut. Time to retire to his empty abode and customary cold shower. He kicked the strewn pencils out of his path as he exited, thinking that maybe tonight, just for a change, him and his lucky right hand would enjoy a steaming hot shower instead.

 _END._


End file.
